her patience and understanding. her virtue of love that fuses and discombobulates the togetherness of a forbidden force of nature and reality she yearns. two bodies, one soul ridden with dire consequences of togetherness; but still they seek to make...
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The storm was brewing, twirling and twining viciously with its eye upon the eyes that squint hard through the horrid rains and torrential winds that whirl around the slick black Acura. It cruises cautiously through the plethora of lanes of the highway, clouding the landscape and blurring the pane that allowed for the twenty-twenty vision of man to fixate along the color coded lines of the road. And only with time and the peace he sought in the discourse of nature's craze it seemed to have only worsened, have intensified and brought an intimidation and upheaval of fear— consternation— to the mind, body, and soul of man. For neither existed in any place but the imagination, and for surely not in the storm of winds and spirits that plagued their existence but even the formulation of memory was an extension of pure imagination. It came to the vessel as a form of madness, of loss of self awareness and lack of realism that emphasizes the importance of the resonant ringtone that clouds the soft R&B he sulked in.
The intimidation was real, a prequel for the disaster that was bound to follow— the calm before the storm. And the ringtone was foreplay for the kind of ride the world had in store for him. It took him by the hand, by the eyes and forced they upon the white 'Kae' imprinted into the center screen of the high tech vehicle, a name that brings a spark to his mind and a sense of wonder to the finger that hovers, hesitantly dancing over over the bright red 'Decline' or the bright green 'Accept'. His hesitance was precious, sacred and profound provocation to the world once the ringing comes to a fading silence and welcomes the raspy voice of the curious Maurice D'Amico infiltrating the vehicle with a placid, "Hello?" Voice glazed with a knowing fatigue that earns a mutual if not identical response if fatigue and languor that lures his squinted eyes into an intrigued side eye though there was no face to be seeing as the vehicle hosted none other than he. Maurice clears his throat, "I'm on my way home now.. ion know how she feelin' right now but imma find out soon.. I talked to her when we got home yesterday and she was fine, but you good KK? You calling me early as hell.." The brother mentions, concerned and confused by the call he was receiving from his sister at the time it was now going on six-forty-five am.
"Yeah.. I was just calling to see how she was doing and if you guys were okay.. I learned that Trey is messing around with Kamiko." Her voice rung out hesitantly, heavy with the pressure of wanting to say more— needing to say more and feeling such a weight through the small chuckle she free into the speaker of her cellphone at the sound of Maurice's response. His voice reeking heavily of gratefulness in the woman having found someone else to be obsessive over so he could love his woman and their daughter without the slightest fear or worry of having to keep his head on a swivel for the sake of their safety. He sighs, muttering a mutual, "I saw that shit too.. I'm happy she finally moved on, was startin' to think she was stuck on stupid tryna' get back a nigga who damn near married." Riots the naturally nonchalant nature of Maurice's heavily accented speech. His lack of care was evident, bone-chilling and satisfactory knowing that his eyes weren't and hadn't ever seemed to want to wander from the woman both Karly and Maurice admired and truly loved and respected. Hearing the presence of his heart and the warmth it created for the vulnerable one that was the mother of his daughter brought a small smile of gratitude and proudness of the older sister, loving the thought of her younger brother finally finding his way in love and happiness in a person who reciprocated the very same passion of not more. From the opposite end of the line, tearing up and hand over her heart, Karly consumes his words, intaking their weight and significance with all of her being that allows her to laugh wholeheartedly at the natural humor he nurtured in times he was putting no effort into being funny, "Why you say that?"
